


Driving Home for Crystmas

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, and drinking, everything else is a-ok, only rated teen for mild reference to cuss words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: Ardyn introduces Crystmas to Niflheim. Everyone is having an inexplicably good time, apart from Aranea, who is highly confused about the Chancellor's motives.A small Christmas fic, set in Gralea just after the Crystal's capture.





	Driving Home for Crystmas

**Author's Note:**

> I read the name 'Crystmas' in [this Tumblr post by @ivorydice](https://ivorydice.tumblr.com/post/168834218428/so-has-anyone-made-a-joke-or-headcanon-yet-about) and it was too hilarious to pass up. So full credit for the name goes to them.

 

Aranea was late off her shift. It had been a long enough day, slogging through her perimeter patrol with no breaks, and it was all made worse by the fact that it was the midst of winter. Night drew in early, which made it hard to lead her troop through their normal route with the same efficiency as in summer.

            Would be better if they got off their asses and did some exercise, honestly. But she wasn’t in a position to moan. She had enough to worry about.

            She shuffled her reports, tucking the binder under her arm so that the instant the dropship landed, she could speed on and get it all signed off before heading to the pub for a well-deserved pint. Yeah, there was no reason to write off the evening just yet.

            On her way to the briefing room, she passed Loqi, who looked uncharacteristically cheerful.

            ‘Merry Crystmas!’

            He didn’t normally sound so cheerful, either.

            What the hell was going on?

            Aranea narrowed her eyes at the naive commander. ‘Whatever you say, kiddo.’ And she carried on down the hall, trying hard to block out the tune the lad had taken to humming.

            It was a distraction, is what it was. And she was going to bloody murder the Chancellor for spreading this ridiculously fanciful notion about _Crystmas_.

 

The situation in the briefing room was no better. A meeting appeared to be underway, and once Aranea had handed over her reports, she was ushered to stand alongside her fellow higher-ups. Emperor Aldercapt sat at the head of the room, and his smile was more lackadaisical than usual.

            ‘This Crystmas thing I’ve been hearing about,’ Emperor Aldercapt began — and Aranea would have groaned if not for the fact she was in the presence of her main source of income — ‘I would like to do something more … _officious_ … to celebrate it.’

            Aranea had to be careful not to let her jaw drop. Was the Emperor off his rocker?

            Aldercapt continued, raising elegant, aged fingers toward the chandelier in joy. ‘We have the Crystal, now, after all. What perfect opportunity to celebrate the ancient festival?’

            ‘Do we even know it’s an ancient festival at all?’ Aranea muttered to Ravus, low enough to avoid notice. ‘My money’s on the Chancellor making the whole damn thing up.’

            Ravus, as usual, revealed no emotion other than letting his eyebrow twitch by a fraction of a millimetre. ‘Yes. That does sound like Ardyn.’

            ‘The festivities begin at six!’ Aldercapt declared, full of whimsy, then his tone dropped. ‘You may leave.’

 

When Aranea finally entered the mess hall at eight, the sounds of merry tunes sung in a major key all but assaulted her ears. There were wreaths of some kind of botanical material layered absolutely everywhere, and trees in the corners, _actual_ outdoor trees. Above their heads, little decorations hung from the ceiling in an obnoxious matrix. Each looked like a bauble, a crude approximation of the Crystal of Light that lay under their charge high above in Zegnautus Keep.

            One pint had definitely not been enough.

            As she made her way to the closest buffet table, where lay what looked like a promising bowl of punch, Loqi approached her, brandishing a sprig of some white flower. To her utter astonishment, he held it above her head (well, as much as he was able - he was, after all, rather short) and puckered his lips.

            Aranea grunted in disgust and pushed the little twerp away.

            ‘Come on, Commodore! It’s tradition!’

            ‘According to who?’ she shot back scathingly. Yet another thing the Chancellor had probably ‘taught’ them at the last second. Sounded like a great way to embarrass people.

            ‘To _tradition?’_ Loqi countered, pouting a little. Oh, great. Now _she_ was looking like the spoilsport.

            ‘Kiss this,’ she said, bumping her fist softly against his lips. She laughed, the soldier next to her laughed, and Loqi pouted once more, but not entirely unkindly.

            Situation avoided. Thank the Astrals.

            Now on to the next. The bowl on the buffet table turned out to be full of roasted almonds, which made her stomach turn, so she grabbed a mincemeat pastry instead and snacked on it while she headed back into the fray, searching for a drink.

            She wound her way between crowds of soldiers, noting with some amusement that there were even a few Magitek Troopers allowed in here. Not the full magitekized ones, of course, but the smaller, normal-human-sized cybersoldiers. They, at least, had some semblance of humanity left in them. And the few she bumped into seemed, well, a little confused, but happy. One was even trying to copy the human soldiers it saw dancing. Bit of a disaster, but then, so were the humans’ attempts.

            ‘Oi oi, Miss A!’

            Oh, thank the gods, it was Biggs. He came almost careening into her, and she countered by swinging an arm over his shoulder casually, steadying him. The dark red liquid in his glass sloshed over the edge a little, and Biggs laughed as small specks decorated his boots.

            ‘Oh well. You should try the spiced wine, Miss A, it’s right fancy.’

            ‘How strong is it?’

            Biggs’s eyes twinkled. ‘Very.’

            She grinned. Biggs knew her tastes well enough. This was more like it.

            ‘And where can I get me some?’

            He pointed toward the kitchen at the back of the hall. ‘In there. Big keg of it, like. Better hurry, though. I saw Wedge head in there about a half hour ago.’

            ‘I’d better get to it, then.’

            He nodded. ‘Right, I’ve got a leg of lamb that needs seeing to.’

            He slapped her on the back jovially, and sauntered off back into the crowd, heading for the buffet tables.

            The PA system started belting out a new song, and this was one happier than the last. Aranea could feel the meagre amounts of good cheer she had managed to muster — mostly thanks to Biggs’s intrusion, because he was one of the few people she could actually stomach being around in this place —  start to dissipate, fast as morning mist. This really was too much.

            In the kitchen, Wedge was rearranging the letters on the festive blocks to say ‘Merry Shytscram.’

            ‘You added an extra “h”,’ Aranea said. ‘There’s no “h” in Crystmas.’

            ‘Yer, but the joke don’t work as well wivout it,’ Wedge explained.

            She left him to it. Found the keg, filled up a glass rather liberally. Then back to the party.

            ‘Hey, Aranea, why weren’t you at Elf Practice?’ The shout came from across the hall. Aranea turned on her heel. Loqi was ensconced amid a group of soldiers, all swigging from ale pitchers happily and joking raucously. His cheeks were ruddy, and he looked so youthful she forgot for a second that he was old enough to drink. Well, barely. He’d probably regret it come the morning.

            ‘The hell?’ She murmured under her breath. Then she ignored him. The joke wasn’t worth getting in on.

 

Finally, in a quiet corner, she found who she was looking for. Ardyn sat watching the party from a comfortable chair placed beside the trees — and that was another thing she still couldn’t believe, _indoor_ trees, what was this, Tenebrae? — and his smile quirked up ever higher as she approached. He looked utterly pleased with himself as he relaxed, drinking his spiced wine and surveying the scene. The smarmy bastard.

            ‘Not enjoying the party, Commodore?’

            She sighed.

            ‘It’s amusing, I’ll give you that. I guess you like watching them all run around like mice who’ve found the cheese.’

            A smug little laugh. ‘Why, I thought they could do with a little celebration.’

            ‘What’s your game, though? Really.’

            ‘I never did tell you where I come from, did I, Commodore?’ Aranea’s brow raised as he spoke. What was he doing, _confiding_ in her now? He continued. ‘Well, while I shan’t spoil the surprise, needless to say, my lineage is connected to those who started this tradition, many centuries ago.’

            ‘So … Crystmas isn’t just some fabrication of yours? I don’t know, I was kind of expecting something like that from you.’

            Ardyn feigned a hurt expression at this. ‘Ah! You wound me, dear Commodore. But yes, indeed, it was real. Ah, but that was at its peak back when the Crystal belonged to the entire world, and not just a bargaining chip between Lucis and Niflheim.’

            She took a deep drag of the wine. She simply couldn’t figure the man out.

            ’It’s a wonderful tradition,’ Ardyn continued, waxing lyrical while Aranea’s drinking gave him the opportunity. ‘You still find it, in small corners of the world, although it’s regrettably rare. Always in the darkest days of winter, lighting fires and hanging crystals off trees, giving _gifts_ to one another. Singing and making merry with friends and family.’ His expression darkened suddenly. ‘Recently my family has taken to ignoring the tradition, however. It’s really quite disheartening.’

            Aranea snorted. The idea of the Chancellor having anything like a family was so bizarre, she struggled to imagine it.

            ‘So you suggested it to the Emperor instead.’

            Ardyn’s eyes glowed in satisfaction. ‘Absolutely. I get to celebrate something important to me, they get to celebrate the recent capture of the Crystal, and a little bit of history revives itself. See? Everyone wins. Drink your wine, my dear, we can’t have you be the only one here not enjoying yourself.’

            Aranea couldn’t help but smile. The Chancellor still rubbed her up the wrong way, but there was something oddly charming about this whole thing. She drank up, then went back to look for Biggs and Wedge. Hell, maybe she’d even join in with a song or two. It was Crystmas, after all.

           

 


End file.
